


Evergreen

by JinkyO



Series: Before Us There Was Me [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 1980s, Awkward Conversations, Christmas, M/M, MIT Era, Meet the Family, Relationship(s), Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/pseuds/JinkyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come home with me. Meet my folks. Don't hole yourself up in this dorm room again this year," Nathan said. A week later, Harold found himself deplaning at Houston Intercontinental Airport for Christmas with the Ingrams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evergreen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vagabond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/gifts).



begin  
INITIALIZE  
loop  
RECIEVER_PHOTODIODE_OKAY :=FALSE  
TRANSMITTER_LED_OKAY := FALSE-- assume bad LED for now  
\--First, do the regular icing detection  
ADC_SLECT (ADC_INPUT => SIGNAL_PHOTODIODE) ;  
TRANSMITTER_LED ( OFF ) ;

In dreamscape the code shuffled and fell into clean, neat, elegant lines. Harold debugged the system. Rearranged the script, plugging in new variables until the program was perfect.  
Beautiful.  
Warm.  
Solid and real.

The code gave way to the sensation of Nathan slowly dragging the sheets down his body and the hard jerk of his cock as Nathan's hand lingered against the front of his boxer shorts for a moment before being replaced by his warm, open mouth.

“I was sleeping,” Harold murmured.

“I know.” Nathan's lips ghosted along Harold's erection, saliva dampening the cotton as he made his way from the underside of the base to the tip. “I'll stop if you want.”

“No. No need for that.” Harold exhaled a low groan. He inched back to prop himself up on his pillows, angling so that he could watch Nathan, could run his fingers through that thick fall of hair and guide Nathan's mouth. “That's nice,” he said, fingers tightening. “What do you want, Nathan?”

Nathan caught the elastic band of the shorts in his teeth and pulled them back and down, freeing Harold's cock. “To make a deal.”

“Not interested—”

“I knew you'd say that,” Nathan eased his wet mouth over the head and held still there for a moment before pulling off slowly. “Hear me out first.” A slow drag of his tongue along Harold's sensitive skin. “I want you to come home with me for Christmas break.”

“No,” Harold said as he rocked his hips forward.

“Why?”

“Because I have too much work to do. And with you in Texas I might have a shot at finishing some of it.”

“Bullshit.” Nathan said. He stretched his long body down on the narrow bed and draped his arm over Harold to stroke him. “You don't have any work, or at least nothing you couldn't do on the plane, in your sleep. Come home with me. Meet my folks. Don't hole yourself up in this dorm room again this year.”

“I'm not good with human interactions, you know that.”

“Double bullshit.” Harold groaned at the warm explosion of breath against his cheek and Nathan's tightening grip on his cock. “I've seen you in action, remember? You're perfectly talented at interaction as long as there's something in it for you.”

“And that would be?”

“A front row ticket to an honest to god family Christmas.”

Harold laughed. “Okay. And why would I want that?”

“Why wouldn't you, Harold Wren? The experience might come in handy some day.”

Nathan was extremely persuasive and a week later, after finals, Harold found himself deplaning at Houston Intercontinental Airport for Christmas with the Ingrams.

 

“Relax,” Nathan said once the driver closed the car door and they were on their way to the house. “They won't bite, I promise.”

“I am relaxed,” Harold bit out. “I just don't like the idea of being your charity case.”

Nathan leaned back against the head rest, shifted his knee against Harold's. “That's not what this is. I didn't come home last year which meant my mama was all over me this summer asking about you.”

Harold blanched and slowly focused his eyes on Nathan. “What did you tell her?”

Nathan laughed. “Nothing scandalous. The truth: you are the most interesting person I've ever met. Not just the mystery, but _you_. I told her I stayed on campus because I don't like the idea of you lurking around on your own.”

Harold's mouth tightened. “I've been on my own for a while. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Nathan said quietly. He patted Harold's knee before turning to watch the landscape pass.

They drove through Houston proper, past the Johnson Space Center, and flat, wide open acres of land after that, most of it spent in silence. Nathan napped, slumped boneless against him. Harold worried.

He fit in at MIT because of his mind. Surrounded by so many other young, capable thinkers, Harold felt at ease and flourished. And then there was Nathan and this thing that they still hadn't quite named. Best friends –Harold could say that without hesitation. What he stumbled over were the other parts of their relationship, the times they weren't discussing theory, or books, or girls, or life in general. Those times when Nathan's hands lingered a touch too long on the walk to lecture, the late nights when he'd slip into Harold's bed; sometimes just to sleep but usually, for sex.

Harold had no problems with the arrangement. It worked. It was comfortable, Nathan was comfortable.

The car turned off the highway, onto a long packed dirt road and through a wood frame gate emblazoned with a large capital I. Harold nudged Nathan awake.  
The car pulled to a stop and Nathan hopped out and into the waiting arms of the tall, rangy man and tiny woman standing in the curve of the driveway.

“Look at you, pale as a fish!” The man said, his arm slung over Nathan's shoulder.

“Oh, Gerald, leave him be,” the woman said, her wide smile bright.

Harold climbed out of the car and stood by the open door until Nathan beckoned him over.

“Alright, Mama, as promised. This is Harold Wren. Harold, my parents, Gerald and Lillian Ingram.”

Harold smiled and took a step forward. Gerald extended his massive, weathered hand and Harold took in the near perfect image of Nathan, some long time from now. Lillian turned her attentions to Harold next. She was short and trim, delicate in the late afternoon dust. Grey hair gathered in a thick braid hung over her shoulder.

“So, this is you,” Lillian declared, clasping his sleeves. Her clear blue eyes moved slowly over his well worn shoes, jeans and comfortable flannel. “Hmm.”

“Not what you expected?” Harold asked, speaking the words as soon as they came to mind and suddenly very curious to hear the answer.

“Exactly what I was expecting.” Lillian's smile widened. She slipped her arm into Harold's, patting his hand. “Let's get inside. You boys have been on the road all day, I've got some cold Dr Peppers in the icebox.”

She swept them up the wide steps and across the veranda into the ranch house. It was cooler inside. Lillian settled them in Gerald's den while she got the drinks together. The driver was bringing in the bags; Nathan's going up the stairs, Harold's down some hallway on the main floor.

“Nathan says you're the smartest out of all those techs in MIT. How'd you come across that?” Gerald asked, relaxed in his leather chair, long legs crossed.

“I wouldn't say that,” Harold said, holding the cool bottle to his face. “I'm just good with computers.”

“That's the wave of the future, computers. Back when Nathan's brother's were coming up it was plastics. Next it'll be those circuit chips. It's a long ways off from good old oil and cattle.”

“There's always going to be a new thing,” Lillian said. She was seated on the edge of Nathan's chair, Harold, on the red leather settee across from the Ingrams. Harold took another sip of his Dr Pepper. Another piece of the mystery of Nathan Ingram falling into place.

They chatted for a bit more after that, sharing the travel plans of the rest of the family, the pertinent details of the daily schedule of the Ingram Ranch. Harold would have plenty of time on his own to do his work.

“But we can always use the extra hands, if you decide you want a touch of fresh air,” Gerald offered.

When they finally broke up, it was Lillian who led him down the wide back hall to his guest room.

“Nathan says you're an orphan. I am sorry for your loss.” Lillian said. “I want you to feel at home here, do you hear me? The holidays are a time for family and I want you to think of us as yours.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Harold said.

They stopped at a heavy door at the end of the hall. “Miss Lilly will do,” she said with a smile as she pushed open the door. “You've got some time. Catch some sleep, get cleaned up. The rest of the boys will be here by seven for supper.”

And in her plainspoken and genteel manner, Miss Lilly welcomed Harold into the family.

The boys were Nathan's three older brothers: Robert, James and William, along with wives, an assortment of children and a small army of servants. Robert and James were chemists at Dow, up from Freeport for the week. William, along with his wife, was a geologist based in the east Texas oil fields. They hadn't made it home either last year.

Nathan was the center of attention over the course of the chicken fried steak dinner and after the novelty of the orphan stray wore off, Harold found it easy to slip into Nathan's shadow for the boisterous cross table conversation on the coming age of micro-computing, the Astro's spring prospects and the hotdog of a job President Reagan was doing. After dinner, Miss Lilly and the ladies retired to the drawing room. Gerald led the men back to the den to smoke cigars, drink barrel aged bourbon, and play poker.

Maybe it was the bourbon, or the heavy meal, or the snippets of life on the ranch, in the oil fields and chemical plants that kept Harold awake that night. Maybe it was the quiet. He was sitting in a chair by the window, looking out into the wide, starlit sky when he heard the door handle rattle. Nathan dropped down over the wide backed chair, nuzzling against Harold's ear. “See? Human interactions aren't that hard.”

The days and nights took on a steady routine after that. Home made meals of ham and eggs, fried chicken and roast beef, then, exhausted, Harold retreated to his room at the back of the house for a long, hot shower and, later, when Nathan slipped into the room, a few hours of touch and taste before it was time for Nathan to sneak back to his own bedroom. Harold spent his days working the ranch, impressing Gerald with his knowledge of cattle husbandry.

“I grew up on a farm. Soybeans mainly, but we kept a few Holsteins, goats and chickens for the pantry.”

“What happened to your folks? The farm?” Gerald asked. The two of them were at the feed gate, Nathan and his brothers on horseback, further behind the herd, guiding the animals forward.

“My mother died when I was young, so it was mostly me and my father.”

“And him?”

“He passed a few years ago. I stayed on for a while, then I had to go.”

“Sorry to hear that. Used to be that a farm or ranch could sustain a family for generations. Now, all the young ones are flocking off to the cities.” Gerald's horse was pacing before the gate as the first few heads of cattle came across the ridge. Harold didn't have an answer for the older man. He didn't think those last words were directed at him anyway.

That night they raised the Christmas tree, a thick redcedar that immediately led Harold back to memories of furtive touches in a field of fresh, pungent evergreens in Lassiter. Memories of home, of decorating the tree with his father, and older, soft and threadbare memories of his mother.

Harold stepped in close to Nathan as Robert's son lit the tree.

Christmas Eve came with a warm buzz of anticipation. Miss Lilly and the cook took over the kitchen. Harold spent the day on the range with Nathan and the Ingram men. After dinner, he and Nathan were put in charge of the half dozen young nieces and nephews, giving the visiting nannies a few hours of freedom before the onslaught of Christmas morning.

“No more stories!” was the general consensus after Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer and an abbreviated Christmas Carol.

“Yeah! We want the latest update, where is Santa now?”

“You've created a monster,” Nathan teased. He hoisted the little girl on his lap up into his arms and led the way over to the radio. Tiny bodies clustered around Harold as he tuned in the NORAD radar tracker.

“How do they follow him like that?”

“What is Greenland?”

“Are humans allowed to go to the North Pole?”

“Have you ever been to the North Pole?”

No.

He'd never been on the bottom of a kid pile until that evening either.

“Maybe someday,” Harold answered quietly.

Santa came sometime late in the night. Nathan curled against him as bright moonlight streamed in through the curtained guest bedroom window.

Christmas morning was a blur. They overslept. Lillian found them.

“We stayed up waiting for Santa,” Nathan mumbled as he sat up, his back to the door.

“I see.” Miss Lilly's eyes darted from Harold, blankets pulled up to his shoulders, to Nathan, standing to pull on his pajama bottoms.

“Um...” Harold pushed himself to sit up in bed.

“Shh.” Nathan and Miss Lilly hushed at the same time.

“There's not really a thing one says in situations like these,” she said. “Get dressed and come down for breakfast, the little ones are looking for you two.”

Nathan, barefoot and barechested, leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his mother's cheek.

“Will there be trouble?” Harold asked after she left. He scrambled out of bed, cool morning air pebbling his skin as he dug his pajamas out from under the blankets.

“Only if we're late for breakfast.” Nathan shrugged into his night robe. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips and Harold watched warily as Nathan walked back to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Nathan caught him in a loose hug and ran his cheek over Harold's. “Merry Christmas.”

Christmas day was a blur too. Ham and eggs for breakfast. A frenzy of small hands attacking wrapping paper and well dosed eggnog for the adults. There were two packages under the tree marked with Harold's name: a fine, hand crafted dark leather wallet, “From: The Ingram Family” and from Nathan, a signed copy of Carl Sagan's _Cosmos_.

“Thank you,” Harold said, the words hitching in his throat, the beautiful gifts heavy in his hands.

The day was warm and humid. Rainstorms loomed in the coming week's forecast. Harold joined the men, along with the ranch hands who came after lunch, to move the herd down to the natural wind break of the valley. By the time they made it back to the house Harold felt like he'd earned every one of his gifts, along with the succulent turkey and trimmings. Sitting in the den afterward, a straight flush in his hand, Nathan's leg warm under the table against his, Harold was stuffed full.

The rain came down hard just before bedtime. Harold stayed in the den with Nathan while the other men made their leave for bed or to go check on the children upstairs.

“So, was it what you imagined?” Nathan asked after they moved to the two-seater in front of the dying fire.

“A little louder,” Harold said, tangling his leg with Nathan's, warm from the contact and the bourbon. “But nice. Good.”

“Dad wants you back for the spring runs. Apparently you made a good impression.”

“No, I think I just didn't make a fool of myself.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “Have you discussed what happens to the ranch when he can't do this on his own anymore?”

Nathan's lips thinned. “We'll have to sell it off. Robert has a little place down in Freeport for them. Beyond that...,” he broke off with a shrug.

“I'm glad you brought me home.”

“I'm glad you came.”

There was a soft tap at the door. “I thought I heard you two in here,” Miss Lilly said as she walked inside. Harold straightened, sloppily, his ankle still hooked around Nathan's.

“Relax. I won't be long.” She sat in the chair opposite them. “Nathan?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, setting his drink down before standing to get the bottle and a fresh glass.

Her eyes were focused on Harold now. “Nathan calls you fascinating. Now, I'm assuming you know my son well enough to know just what that means?”

Harold's cheeks burned. He had never heard Nathan use that word to describe anyone. Nathan was the fascinator, the impossibly handsome creature that, for some unimaginable reason, had chosen him.

“Bless your heart,” she whispered. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Mama,” Nathan said as he handed her the glass of bourbon.

“No, Nathan, this is important. Are you two being careful? Every day I read another news story about this new gay cancer.”

“Mama!”

“Are you?”

“Yes, Miss Lilly. We're safe,” Harold answered.

“That's all I ask. Down the road we're going to have to tell your father and your brothers, but for now, just be safe and take care of each other.”

Harold gripped his glass. “I will.”

She nodded. Stood, glass in hand. “Make sure that fire is out before you two head off for bed.”

Nathan walked her up to her room. Harold put out the fire and collected the empty glasses and took them to the kitchen, where Nathan found him.

“Sorry about that,” Nathan said, running his hand up Harold's back before he picked up the dishtowel to help with the washing. “I thought she was about to give us the pregnancy talk. Gay cancer though?” Nathan chuckled.

“It's a thing. The CDC published a paper on it this summer. They don't know where it comes from, or how to cure it.”

“Really? I've never heard of it.” Nathan dried the glass in his hand and set it in the dish rack. “Fuck! That's why the condoms now?”

“Yep.”

“But we're not gay.”

“But we fuck.” Harold pulled the drain out of the sink. “Listen,” he said, drying his hands on his jeans. “We've never talked about this before, but you should know that I'm... that you're the only person I've been with, since the new year.”

Nathan furrowed his brow. “I...” He averted his eyes, tossed the cloth onto the counter top.

“I know. That's why I buy the condoms.”

“Maybe we should have talked about this before.”

Harold shrugged. “Like I said, the scientists don't know much except that they think it's passed like the clap, or crabs, babies, through unsafe sex.”

“So we'll get tested for it when we get back. The gay cancer, crabs, babies, all of it,” Nathan said firmly.

He shut off the light, leaving just the over-sink lamp to illuminate the dark kitchen as they walked out and back to Harold's room to curl in tight together against the loud storm outside and sleep.

Over the next few days the ranch house slowly uncrowded. Robert and James left with their families for Freeport. William and his brood headed out the day after. Harold and Nathan stayed on through New Years before it was time to return to the cold of Cambridge.

On the flight home, while Nathan napped heavily against him, Harold closed his eyes and went back to his code. The programming would always be neat and clean in a way human interactions could never match. He could decompile a script and understand the source code underneath, but Nathan wasn't code, and this thing between them, the thing they agreed Christmas night was worth continuing, was just as mysterious to him now as it had been in the beginning.

Because there will always be something new, Harold thought.

 

 


End file.
